


Curing Unbelievable Boredom

by chaostheoryy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, M/M, Military Kink, Stubborn Sherlock, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheoryy/pseuds/chaostheoryy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been in a sulk for three days and, frankly, John's had enough of the consulting detective's grumpy mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curing Unbelievable Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece was written in response to a request from one of my followers on Tumblr who requested I write a drabble in response to their prompt: "Curing unbelievable boredom".  
> (Also, this happens to be my first Johnlock work so let us celebrate my induction to Johnlock fanfiction hell.)

Three days. Three long, bloody days Sherlock Holmes had been sulking and, frankly, it was beginning to drive John mad. Now John Hamish Watson was a patient man. He knew how to deal with all kinds of issues, from crying children in his clinic to victims bleeding out in the deserts of Afghanistan. Yes, John was a calm, patient man, but his patience had grown very thin thanks to an antsy and obnoxious consulting detective complaining about his lack of cases for nearly 72 hours straight. In the past half hour alone, Sherlock had grumpily insulted John 3 times, broken John's favorite coffee mug, and made an absolute mess of the parlor by tossing two weeks' worth of newspapers and retired case files all over the room before beginning a ridiculous round of pacing.

Even as he did his best to focus his attention on the news program he had opened on his laptop, John couldn't help but be distracted by the sound of the grown man stomping about the room, mumbling to himself and stepping on every single scrap of newspaper on the floor so that they crinkled in the most irritating manner John had ever heard.

By this point, John's patience and control could only be measured by a single dash on the keyboard. One more tiny, aggravating action and he would explode.

And that action came in form of Sherlock attempting to light a cigarette right in the middle of the parlor.

John heard the distinct sound of a lighter clicking behind him and was on his feet before the detective could bring the minute flame to the tip of his cigarette.

"What the _HELL_ do you think you are doing?" John shouted in absolute rage as he tore the lighter from the detective's hand and smacked the cigarette from between his lips. Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to form a ridiculously sarcastic and taunting remark, John raised his finger up in front of the detective's face, nostrils flared and brow furrowed in anger. "Don't. Just don't. I don't want to hear any bloody excuse about not having a case or needing to take a drag because you know bloody well that you aren't allowed to smoke in this flat!" He then pushed past Sherlock and threw both the lighter and the cigarette in the trash.

"Joh-!"

John spun back around and gave Sherlock a deadly glare. "Shut up, Sherlock! Just shut up and sit down!"

John was quite certain that the look that came across his flatmate's face was one he had never seen before. There was a peculiar mixture of surprise, fear, and intrigue. John was quite surprised himself to discover he had caused such an expression to come across Sherlock's face. Then again, he couldn't recall a time being so outwardly furious. Perhaps it was about time Sherlock Holmes knew what the good doctor was like when he was royally pissed.

After a few seconds -seconds that seemed like hours to John- Sherlock's expression of surprise faded and gave way to a scowl. "John, let me have my lighter back," he said as he made an attempt to scoot around John and fetch the lighter from the trash can.

John, however, wasn't having any of the detective's rebellious actions. Sherlock had only taken one step before John's hand firmly grasped onto his upper arm and yanked him back. "No," John growled lowly, "You sit down. _Now_."

Despite his overwhelming fury, John was amazed as the look of fear and surprise took its place on Sherlock's countenance once again. Those icy eyes didn't seem so intimidating now that they were wide and full of alarm. Had Sherlock really not considered that John may express his anger in a way such as this? Was it really such a surprise? Judging by the detective's expression, the answer to both questions was a definite yes. Although he seemed completely shocked and perhaps fearful of John's rage, Sherlock didn't do as he had been ordered and John, of course, was not pleased by his stubbornness. John took a deep breath and yanked Sherlock down by the arm until he was awkwardly bent with his face at John's eye level.

"Are you going to sit your arse down?" He hissed impatiently, "Or am I going to have to make you?"

Yet again, a look of a disbelief came over Sherlock's face in response to John's stern voice. It was extremely clear to the detective that John wasn't fooling around but, to John's displeasure, Sherlock wasn't simply willing to surrender to his command.

"I'm going to go out for a smoke," Sherlock said as he tore his arm from John's grip.

As good of a man John Watson was, there was one thing he couldn't stand: a man disobeying orders. And Sherlock was disobeying _HIS_ orders. When Sherlock turned and began heading toward his room to change out of his pyjamas, John trailed right after him and grabbed him from behind, spinning him around and forcefully pushing him up against the wall. He could hear Sherlock's breath hitch as his back slammed against the firm surface. Never before in the two long years he had known Sherlock, had he seen those blue eyes go as wide as they were the moment John forced his knee between the detective's long, lanky legs and grabbed his wrists to pin his arms over his head. To say he looked taken by surprise would be a severe understatement.

"I don't like when soldiers disobey my orders," John said in a dangerously low tone, "Because when soldiers disobey my orders, people get hurt." He narrowed his eyes and squeezed Sherlock's wrists tightly.

What John noticed immediately after that made him question his own eyesight because he swore that when he gave Sherlock's a squeeze, the detective's pupils dilated. Now that wasn't something that happened on a regular basis. Not with Sherlock Holmes. Why? Because if John read that reaction right, that meant Sherlock was aroused. Now that couldn't be right. Sherlock Holmes had never expressed sexual interest in anyone or had displayed arousal in response to anything. As far as John knew, the detective was asexual. But John could see it. He could see the physical reactions coming across Sherlock's visage. His pupils were dilated, his jaw was clenched, and his cheeks definitely had more color in them than they usually did. It didn't make sense, but John had spent too much time on cases with world's only consulting detective to ignore the evidence presented before him.

Sherlock Holmes was aroused and John Watson was the cause.

"Now," John murmured, voice low and dark, "You're going to be a good soldier and sit your arse down on that sofa. And once you do, I'll make sure you forget that you ever even wanted to take another case."


End file.
